The Fullmetal Alchemist
by crestfallen hostility
Summary: Edward Elric is a typical fifteen year old. What's not typical is his daily harassment by Central's number one alchemy team, the Homunculus'. When he meets Mr. Mustang, the apartment maintenance man, can Edward turn his sorry losses into success? RoyEd.
1. Sorrow

_No matter how hard I tried, things just never worked out the way I wanted them to . . ._

**ONE. SORROW**

'Come on, Ed! We're going to be late for the train!'

Oh yeah, how exciting. Mom always said moving from one place to another mean adventure around every corner. She loved making every move seem thrilling, not depressing. She knew how hard it was for me and Al, having to move from one place to another after Dad died. Mom had maniac depression, so it was hard for her to keep a stable income. I still loved her, though, even if Al and I took care of her most of her life.

I jumped in the front seat of our old station wagon. Hey, in 1909 they had cars. At least in Resembool. We weren't driving to our destination, just the station. Even so, no part of me wanted to experience "this grand adventure". I wanted to be home, with Winry and Pinako and Den. No matter how much I loved my mother, sometimes she just… just didn't know when to quit.

Closing the door behind me, Winry almost killed the joy by practically breaking my window, shoving a red coat into my lap. Puzzled, my golden orbs traveled upwards, meeting her watery blue eyes. Tears stained her cheeks, and she fought as hard as she could against the rising sobs I could just almost hear. 'T… take this, Edward. I made it for you. Don't forget me.' She wiped a stray tear from her eye.

How could I forget her? 'I'll always remember you, Winry.'

And just like that Al, Mom and I head for our new lives in Central, Amestris.

* * *

The ride to Central was uneventful. I leaned against the glass, Winry's red coat wrapped around my thin shoulders. Resting my chin against my hand, I stared out the window, watching as the shrubs, fields and trees dissipated into small buildings and houses.

Why had I agreed to this? Mom said we were just going on a business trip, not moving. I never liked laving the towns we lived at; I couldn't make any friends. And what was the point, anyway, if you didn't know when the next move would be and where? How were you supposed to stay and feel comfortable when any minute the trap could spring and you'd be gone? These emotions tugged at my head, eating away at the little self control I had. My hands stroked long blond locks of hair nervously, biting my lip as not to cry. Why couldn't we go back? But at the same time I realized I didn't know what could happen. Maybe Central would be fun, give me the acceptance I craved and needed but never felt.

Al, Mom, and I were a perfect family. We loved life and looked after each other. Dad might have been a coward, but my mom sure wasn't. She fought her disorder to the grit, never giving up or making excuses for herself. And when she did need a break, she was sure to let Al and I know so we had time to get out of the house. My younger brother adored me, babying me and worrying as if I was a lost kitten in distress. Three years ago I lost my arm and leg in a car accident that killed my father, so Winry and Pinako put their heads together to make me prosthetic limbs called Automail, mechanical arms and legs that would place my damaged and amputated ones.

Man, was it a painful procedure. And the rehabilitation took forever. Well, three months, but it felt like years. I had some martial art experience under my belt, so Al and I sparred. He won, however. Every match. Not to mention he beat me height wise.

I'm not an out of shape kid, however. My body is tough and lean; I don't break easily. What I lack in height I make up in pure muscle, and I was voted "most fit" at my old school. Pretty impressive for a fifteen year old. I'm fast, thanks to my height, but I do have a temper. Call me small and you'll find out what I mean. Fast. With a black eye and two missing teeth on the side.

The train's peaceful melody calmed me, every rattle and creak sending me deeper into a slumber of no return. Turning my head, I saw Mom and Al sleeping, Al's forehead against Mom's shoulder, eyes closed. How peaceful he looked, with those beautiful locks of light brown hair in his eyes, deep gray eyes shut tight. And that peacefulness I just mentioned? Well, it worked.

I crossed my arms, tilted my head back, and fell into a midnight slumber, while the train rattled on and on, the moon high over-head and smiling down upon us.

* * *

'Brother, we're here!'

I mumbled something, pushing my Al's hand out of my face. We couldn't be there already? But yes, like so many others I slept through the night and the morning. Pulling out my dad's old silver pocket watch, I yawned and checked the time. One o'clock in the morning. 'Ngh, still sleepy…' Mumbling, I stood up, stretching my hands above my head, and took my first steps out of that god-forsaken train.

Central appeared more grandiose than I had initially anticipated. A city within a city, I would call it. Large apartment complexes, business towers, and military offices lined the circular roads, expensive and in-style cars driving at top speeds within the park way. In the middle, quite a ways off, I had a clear view of the military headquarters, it's green flag waving briskly yet valiantly in the wind. Though I hated myself for saying this, it was a nice place to live.

For a change.

'Excuse me? Would you happen to be the Elric family?'

I blinked, turning around with burning curiosity. Was someone expecting us? Looking up at my mother, I saw her smile was genuine. Oh, great. She nodded, and cheerfully replied, 'Yes. I'm Trisha Elric, and these are my sons, Edward and Alphonse.' I crossed my arms, sticking out my lower lip, brows furrowed in a scowl. If there's one thing I didn't want to be known as, it was gentle. Al nudged me in the ribs, and I gave in, sending the man slight smirk.

To my chagrin, he wasn't the least bit offended. Grinning like a fool, he bowed to my mother, introducing himself in a very high pitched voice that reminded me of a five year old. 'Welcome to Central, Ms. Elric. I'm Kain Fuery, a solder here in Central.' He smiled at me and Al. 'I've been instructed to give you an escort to the apartment you'll be staying at.' Like we needed an escort. But Mom approved, and so we all followed Fuery forth into the bustling city.

I started feeling uncomfortable as we passed the huge Military base. It reminded me of those castles I read about in school, only with cement. Nonetheless, I charged forth with my comrades, finally reaching our said destination… and groaned.

The place was, eh, can we say … old? Years of wear and tear were pulling this place apart at the seams, paint chipped on the outside, including a few broken windows and tons of graffiti. _I'm going to just love it here. _Internally, I swore and stamped my foot and cursed my mom for bringing us out on this useless journey. My want and need to be with Winry escalated, and I felt my cheeks grow hot with sadness. Why couldn't my life be normal.

Mom thanked Fuery, picked up our bags, and headed inside to who-knows-what. Timidly, I followed behind my family, taking a good look at my future. Empty. The entire apartment was empty. Not a soul to be seen, not a lobby desk installed. No elevator, no electronics, and definitely no books. Oh great. The stairs didn't even look that stable.

But something saved me that day. I don't know how or why, but soon I found out we weren't the only family living here.

'Hello?' I turned around, only to meet the eyes of… another human being! All right. Score one for Ed. Smiling at him, I face the young man full on, blinking in surprise. His features closely resembled me and my brother's, but he was taller and slender than both of us. His hair was a light shade of blonde, and had the same doe eyes as my brother but with blue irises. Smiling, the boy stuck out his hand, light and pale. 'I'm Alfons Heiderich. Live down in 203.' He blinked, looking down and my heavy suitcase. 'Want some help with that?' When I nodded, he took it from me and started to climb those unsteady stairs with gusto. Man, was this kid on the ball. Was everyone in Central eager to help foreigners?

Treating each step as if it were my last, I managed to make it up the two flights of stairs it took to reach 205, our apartment room. Alfons and I lived just across the hall from each other, and I finally felt human contact after being stuck 13 hours on a crowded train. Well, if he could survive in the place I called Hell, than surely I could as well.

As Al put his stuff away, I shied away from my unpacking duties to meet with Alfons in his room just across the hall. He led me to a comfy red armchair, and I noticed his complex was just as gray and boring as ours. Must run in the contractor's family. Grinning, the elderly blond ground up some coffee, proceeding to interrogate me on my previous life.

'So, I never caught your name,' he mumbled from behind the kitchen counter, fully concentrated on making the best batch of coffee I would ever taste, I'm sure. Shrugging sat back in the chair, trying to look casual.

'I'm Edward, Edward Elric.' Alfons turned around, seeming suddenly excited.

'You wouldn't be related to Hoenheim Elric, would you?' At the mention of that name, I tore my gaze from him, staring down at the empty cut he'd presented to me earlier.

'Yeah, he was my dad…' _And I honestly don't want to talk about this. _Lucky for me, Alfons picked up on my displeasure and veered a different course. He asked where I originally came from and I replied with Resembool, even though that wasn't entirely true. Then there was the subject of age, school, likes, interests, and I replied with Alchemy, my father's old blood and tears hobby.

Alchemy made him stop, eyes suddenly narrowing. 'You'd better be careful, Ed,' he muttered, looking around suspiciously. _Wait, did Central bug the apartments, too?_ 'Alchemy is very popular here, but not for the reasons you would think.' What other reasons, then?

I wanted to ask him why, but he told me to go back to my apartment; he had things to do. 'But you should come down and meet my buddies by the square. They'd die to see you.' Again, the question of 'why' sat at the edge of my tongue like a burn.

'I'll see you at school, then,' I finished, closing the door behind me. The reality of being "kicked out" didn't exactly register until then, but I attempted to shrug it off. He'd been decent enough, right?

But why did Alchemy send him into an angry craze like a rabid dog?

I went back into our room, unlocking the door. As I entered, a young woman with choppy brown hair proceeded in giving my mother the lay of the land.

'… and if there is ever a problem with any household appliances, you can call Mr. Mustang. He's our maintenance man, and an ex general.' I wondered how he made that big of a skip backwards. Heh, must have been court marshaled. Mom wrote down his name and number as the woman attempted to wave goodbye. At me. I didn't respond, resulting in her frowning, brushing past me as if to prove she wasn't shaken. What odd people they were, Central… ians.

I waltzed in as if nothing had happened and proceeded to plop myself in front of our sixteen inch radio. Al gave me a glare, but continued instructing my mother the proper way of folding bras. How would he know?

Fiddling with the switch, I couldn't seem to get the radio working at all. I pressed every button, flipped every switch, shook it, banged it, even screamed at it. No cigar. Oh great.

'MOM! WHAT ROOM DOES THAT MAINTENANCE GUY LIVE IN?'

My mother stormed out of the bedroom, a bag of tampons clutched in her left hand. 'Honey, I'm right here. And _Mr. Mustang _occupies the garden area downstairs.' She put her hand over her eyes, exhaling in exhaustion. 'Good grief, Edward. I thought I'd raised you to be more polite. The way you're treating this new situation and the people involved, you'd think I have a chimer as my son.'

I knew she hadn't meant it in a negative way, but my anger flare up faster than a burning forest. I sneered, glaring at her with all the hatred I could muster. 'Well, sorry you have a cripple as a son. Is that what you mean?'

I slammed the door before she could answer.

* * *

**A/N: **just saw the new karate kid. I am officially in love. If movies were human this one's be my husband. So, this is a fan fiction based on the karate kid 2010, with sprinkles of the 1980's version here and there. Gonna try and incorporate the fly bit, 1980's way. Mustang portrays Mr. Miyagi or Mr. Han or whoever you invision him to be. This is eventual royed, but it'll start as parental. Yes, there will be a tournament and the bad dudes, but it's not kung fu nor is it martial arts. This story is 'the alchemy kid' which I have renamed as 'the full metal alchemist' for plot reasons, not just the fanfic genre.

Enjoy!


	2. The Maintenance Man

_My expectations weren't as high for him, but he exceeded every one . . ._

**TWO. THE MAINTENANCE MAN**

I didn't exactly know where this "Mr. Mustang" lived, so listed my options. Maintenance men lived out in the little shacks covered in graffiti with broken windows . Unfortunately, where I stood there were no such buildings. It was not until I reached the bottom step that I realized what a beautiful garden our complex had.

Rows and rows of lilies, daffodils, roses, and violets added a homey and gentle feel. They stretched for miles, accompanied by very expensive looking trees. Birds chirper\d and chattered, their brilliant colors flashing and whizzing around me. There were more birds than I have ever seen in my life time. And this garden looked well cared for, not the sort of dead plants I was used to back home.

I followed my instincts behind a few trees, peering around. A long ways off rested a small, blue shack, look pitiful and cheap compared to the elegance of this garden. Covered in premature rust, the steel roof appeared weathered and ancient. Lowering my eyes, I saw blue paint chipping off the sides of the wooden boards, and I honestly wondered what brought him so low? This must be the place.

After I had gotten close enough, I knocked gently on the splintered door. "Mr. Mustang?" I whispered, knowing full well these walls weren't soundproof. "Hello? Mr. Mustang?"

I wandered past the door, peering into a dusty and cracked window. A man, maybe in his early thirties, sat in a desk chair, legs swung over a table and head placed far back in a relaxed position. His steady breathing gave me the assumption he was asleep. Dark black hair hung limply from his head, though from my angle I couldn't see his face.

Trying the handle, I found it surprisingly to be unlocked. Turning the long handle, I took a step into his so-called "office", my gloved hand successfully muffling the sound of my entry. Then I attempted to tip-toe around him. Though I knew I needed him awake, I wasn't about to leave a bad impression with this man. "Mr. Mustang?" When I had successfully crept an arms-length away, I shook his shoulder, trying desperately to render him conscious.

That seemed to do the trick, but not in the manner I anticipated. He groaned, brushing my hand away and rubbed his still-closed eyes. Then he glared at me through parted fingers, onyx eyes blazing with intolerance, especially for me. It was slightly frightening, but I didn't want to appear weak my first time out, so I continued my presentation.

"Uhm, hi. I need-" He cut me off by flinging his arm over his eyes, paying absolutely no attention to me.

"I'm not working today, Shorty."

Uh, Shorty? Hello? How polite was this man again? I furrowed my eyebrows, clenching and unclenching my automail fist. I wanted to get this over with and leave. "My radio isn't working, and we need someone to fix it." I tried not to let this guy know he was bothering me.

"I already told you, it's my day off." Fine. Fine, have your day off. See if I care.

I shrugged, pushing the wooden door frame agape, and started to leave. "Well," I answered, not interested in this man's biting comments. "We'll give you some money, if that's what you want. But please come up and fix it, 'kay?" With that, I shut the door and started my trek home, only to be stopped by Mr. Mustang's yelp of "Wait!"

* * *

As we walked into my apartment, I peeled my red jacket off and threw it in the corner, thinking nothing of it. I then proceeded to peel my water-stained gloves, carefully making sure the white fabric wouldn't tear or rip.

Mustang watched me, his eyes curious, astonishment settling in the murk of black. Sniffing in disapproval, I showed him the way to the family room, pointing to our broken radio as I did so.

"That one. Can you fix it?" Hands on my hips, I raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. He didn't seem very promising…

His answer shocked me, irritation bubbling in my stomach like a premature volcano. "Can you hand it to me, please?" It wasn't really the words that bothered me, but his tone. Curt and lacking any room for considerations. I wasn't used to people talking to me like that. At home, I'd always been the top dog, receiving respect even if it was only out of fear.

I sighed, grabbing the old machine and prepared to toss it at him, but Mustang stopped me dead. "I said, _hand it to me_." This guy was really getting on my nerves.

No matter, I _handed_ it to him in the most sarcastic fashion I could. He gave a sophisticated nod of thanks, and brought it with him to the kitchen counter. Sighing, I flopped back on the couch, wincing as I heard Mom and Al come barging into my quiet space of oppressed freedom.

"Hi, Ed! Oh," I recognized Al's voice, even though I wasn't facing either. "Are you Mr. Mustang?" I turned my head. The maintenance man nodded, flashing a kind smile. _But I know his dark side._

Then Mom proceeded in yelling at me, lecturing how I shouldn't have my clothes just laying around anywhere, and how we had hangers for a reason. I just rolled my eyes. Her comment earlier had stung, and I wanted nothing more to do with her until the pain subdued. "And what is this?" she growled, spying my ebony gloves, inside out, on the table. "You know you're not supposed to leave the room without these, Edward!"

Just add more fuel to the fire, Mom.

I bit back a comment. "I just took them off, okay? My hand gets hot with those on." I had only one that felt, anyway. "What, you embarrassed?" I snapped my head around, meeting Mom's extremely hurt eyes with my own, irritated ones.

The whole time I hadn't noticed Mustang, focused on not the radio but us, onyx hues twinkling in interest. A few tweaks and turns and he announced his accomplishments, _handing_ the old radio back to me. I kind of wish he had thrown it.

"Your carburetors weren't working right," he muttered, showing me the inner workings of the electronic. But his eyes grew serious; hair-raising serious.

"I'd highly suggest keeping a blanket over it when in use." He spoke with his teeth clenched, the words slurred and mottled between his lips. What was with the sudden mood change? I grunted, pushing the machine back in place, and looked back at him.

But he wasn't watching me anymore. He was staring at my right arm, fully exposed Automail shining under the inspecting lights. I felt like a bug under a microscope, and discomfort surged around me.

"Uh, I think I'm alright now, Mr. Mustang." Wait, why wouldn't he take an interest in my Automail? He was a mechanic, after all. Nonetheless, he nodded and bid us good day.

I met up with Alfons a few minutes later, happy to see another boy my age after the perilous account involving Mustang. "Want to go to the beach with me?" he asked, his bright smile beaming like a flashlight in a dark room. Nodding, I followed him to his car. It wasn't a fancy one, not at all. An old Ford, it's broken head lamp jumped out almost automatically; I noticed it instantly. However, I wasn't going to risk loosing a ride because I didn't like the car.

His fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel, assertive blue eyes never tearing from the road. However say I may be, it wasn't anything exciting, being in a car with him. Filled with boredom, I leaned against the window and attempted to count the number of grass blades. Eventually, I gave up, because we zoomed past them so fast there wasn't enough time to recollect them all.

"So," Alfons started, and I jumped in surprise at hearing another voice, "you met Mr. Maintenance, did you?"

I nodded. "Yeah…" I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell Alfons what he told be about the radio. Questions were for later.

"What do you think?" was this a trick question?

I shrugged, propping my feet up on his dashboard. "Grumpy, moody, and creepy, but otherwise a nice guy, I guess." Alfons shrugged, turning back to his driving.

Another ten minutes later, we arrived at Central Beach, though you hardly could call it that. There weren't any oceans where we lived, or anywhere else. The "so-called" beach turned out to be a lakeside, and not a very big one, in fact. From where I sat I saw a string of boys playing volleyball, all looking a tad bit like Alfons.

I assumed these were his "friends".

Leading the way, Alfons introduced me to each and every one of the four boys. Josh, Tristan, Hans, and Adolf. They seemed pleased to meet me, so I smiled and nodded, trying to come off as a nice guy.

The Adolf asked me a question, and as I looked back on it now I realize I should have denied his request. Things would have been so much simpler if I had. He held a volleyball in his hand, spinning it on a finger like a professional basketball player would. "So," he started, tossing the ball from one hand to another. "Do you play Volleyball?"

"Actually, I do." Volleyball wasn't my favorite sport nor was it my best, but I was so desperate to gain these boys' respect I'd submit to anything.

"Well, you'll be on Tristan and Hans' team, and Josh and Alfons, and I will play against you. 'Kay?" Nodding, I jogged over to Hans' side of the field, eager to show these boys I played well.

The game began, and It was intense. Obviously Alfons and his friends were professional Volleyball players. They slammed and jumped and cheered like there wasn't any tomorrow coming around the corner. I was left, defenseless, in the middle of the sand with my jaw hanging open, staring.

O . M . F . G .

That is all.

We sat around a campfire, laughing and telling jokes until tears streamed down our eyes. A close distance off, another group lit their own bonfire, and us boys soon realized them as girls. One specific girl, a brunette with beautiful pale pink bangs, turned towards me and smiled. I felt hot, and smiled back stupidly.

Alfons nudged me in the side, winking. "She's pretty, eh?" I nodded dumbly. In response, the four other boys shoved me in her direction, chiding and daring me to go and say hello. I met their challenge with false confidence, knowing all too well I did not want to introduce myself.

So, brushing the sand off my blood-red cloak, I made my way towards the group of ladies, giving them a reassuring smile, looking nervously over at my new friends, who only giggled and assured me I wouldn't get slapped. Nice, guys. How thoughtful.

As I drew closer, the brunette lowered her head, stealing glances every few seconds. I took up a seat next to her, extending my flesh hand as a greeting. "H-Hi. I'm Edward… Elric." Shit, Ed. Regain control. She took it, smiling shyly.

"Rose."

_Rose…_ The name sounded like honey on my tongue. I hadn't realized I was smiling like an idiot until she giggled, blushing heavily. 'O-Oh, I'm so… so sorry," I muttered, pink tracing my cheeks as well. I checked back in with my mates.

After giving Josh a high five, Alfonse stopped dead in his tracks, not moving a single muscles. His eyes, wide and fearful, had the most expression I ever saw him put forth, as if danger were coming…

"We gotta go. It's… them." I cocked my head.

"Them who?" I asked, not wanting to leave. "They can't be that bad." Wasn't everyone in Central calm and kind? Or was that just the soldiers…?

Damn. Wrong thing to say. All five boys turned their heads towards me, looking as if I had just shot myself. "What?" Alfonse stomred over and grabbed my arm, Fury burning in his eyes.

"Do you have any sense whatsoever? What do you think you're doing hanging around Fletcher's ex girlfriend?" he spat with malice, glaring over at Rose and then returning his fiery blue orbs to me.

There wasn't enough time to reply. I hear the sound of Motorcycles not too far off, and was left behind as Alfonse and his friends took off running. I stood there, not understanding the situation at all. What got them so riled up?

How soon I would find out I wish I had realized.

* * *

**A/N:** i love thos story so much! thank you for your reviews and favs. but i'd rather have a review than a favorite, and i need more reviews so i know it's worth updating. how do you like mustang? let me know in a review, and the kind of interaction he and ed should have.


	3. Red Sea

_it wasn't that i was scared as much as it was i didn't believe . . ._

**THREE. RED SEA**

I watched my friends hit the road, backing up as far as the parking lot. This whole charade left me in a gray haze, but the sound of distant motorcycles put my body on red alert. As the dust cloud cleared, I saw fully well four boys, all way older than me. Nervously, I looked back at Alfons beckoned his friends back, wading in the sand as if a killer shark might jump out and eat them.

I guessed in a past life this motorcycle gang must have been the sharks.

As they stopped moving, the tallest one (I suspect their leader) jumped off, striding towards the small group of girls like a peacock with its tail feathers out. Rose looked desperately at me, fear filling her dark irises.

"Hey, baby," said leader purred, taking Rose's chin in his hand and stroking her cheekbone. With fighting gusto, she broke free, glaring heatedly at him.

"Leave me alone, Russell." Though she tried sounding strong, her cracked voice signaled she was very near tears. Russell seemed to pick up on that, too, for he grabbed her waist and pulled Rose into him.

"C'mon, baby, just one ride?" She struggled from his grasp, and things got violent when Russell started forcefully pulling her towards the horde of bikes.

I wasn't going to let that happen. No way. "Hey! Leave her alone!"

Then things got ugly really fast. Russell pushed his ex girlfriend away, meeting my eyes with hatred. "What did you say?" But before I could even mutter an apology, he started advancing towards me, his gang of buddies following closely behind. Rose shrieked, begging them to stop and leave me a lone.

Russell was a lot taller than I was. His clean cut blonde hair flapped in the invisible breeze, deep ocean eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses. He wore a bomber jacket, along with a full necklace of god knows what kind of teeth. If his appearance didn't warn me to be wary, his voice did the trick.

For anyone who had brains.

"I asked, _what did you say_?" Gulping, I tried finding my voice.

"L-leave, ah, her a-alone." It wasn't as macho as I hoped it would be. Pretty pathetic, actually.

It just went downhill from here. I took a step towards him, trying to seem taller and frightening. Russell laughed in my face, turning to his pals. "Hey, guys! Shrimp here thinks I'm scared of him!"

That's when I noticed the symbol tattooed into his right hand. A Transmutation circle.

These guys were Alchemists.

Perfect.

He taunted me, wagging his pointer finger in a "come hither" motion. "Does shwimpy wanna pway?" I growled, snarling. "Oh, looks like the dust speck has a nice set of chompers, there."

That's when I lost it. I lunged at him, crying out in rage and humiliation. Russell didn't expect this, and fell backwards from my punch, his sunglasses laying in a broken heap off to the side. Russell touched the welting bruise, smiling as his fingers collected a thin stream of blood. He turned his head, eyes full of mischief.

"So, you want to fight, do you?" His cold snarl sent shivers down my spine. Before I knew what was going on I was on my stomach, blood cascading down my chin from a split lip.

I struggled to stand, and when I finally did they advanced once more. I put my arms up, something I'd learned in a very basic martial arts class during the rehabilitation.

For some reason, Russell just laughed harder. "Awh, Shrimpy puts up a good fight, yes he does. Look, he gave me a black eye!"

He made me angrier and angrier, so I launched myself at him again, not even coming close before Russell back kicked me and sent me sailing over five feet in the air. I winced landing with a loud thud, I saw Rose beg him to stop, and I heard him swear and do something that sounded like…

Like a slap.

To _my_ Rose. No way was he going to treat her like that while I was alive.

While I was down on the ground, I traced a crude transmutation circle, something I'd learned in those Alchemy books from dad. Putting my hands on the side, I willed something, anything to happen; it worked.

I stood up again, my nose almost broken and bleeding, lip busted, and a spear clutched between my fingers.

You could say I was pretty damn mad.

Russell looked shocked, and a bit intimidated, giving my partially damaged ego the strength to render forward. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

So I ran at him, my very crude spear pointed right at his face. For a split second I thought I'd won; he hadn't put up any defenses against it.

But I couldn't have been more wrong.

He Jumped up, spun around, and hook kicked me right across the cheek, his spiked boot tearing my skin and leaving five, very long gashes.

But before I had fallen to the ground, he waved his tattooed hand and like magic a huge machete appeared from the sand. I gasped, clutching my side where I swore six ribs broke, and ducked.

He never had the chance to stab me. Rose grabbed him and gave him a forceful and passionless kiss. He dropped his knife and grabbed her, as if forcing his body to mesh with him as he very violently made out with my new found crush.

"I'll go with you, but just stop this, please." He nodded, waving his hit man off of me, who stopped socking me in the stomach. The minute they let me go I threw up, probably from the abuse they gave my poor stomach. The vomit hit one guy's shoe, and he gave my face a swift kick, proceeding to follow Russell back to the motor bicycles.

The left me, gasping for air on that cool, white sand, bleeding from every area you could possibly bleed from. I didn't know how long it was, but it was dark by the time I had the courage to stand up and walk all the way home.

* * *

I shoved the apartment door open. It hurt, even considering my arm wasn't as bashed up as it could be. I didn't even look at my mom, who was fussing with Mr. Mustang about our broken faucet. He'd been over a lot lately…

"Hi Ed-… Oh my god! What happened, baby?" I hated it when she called me that. Dashing towards me, she cupped my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. "Oh no… God, Ed…"

I pushed her away. I wasn't in the mood for her babying, and she wouldn't be leaving me alone anytime soon. So I replied with the flattest excuse I could. "Mom, I ran into a pole, okay? I'm fine." Lies.

"That must have been one violent pole. Tell me the truth." her worried expression stung; I felt bad for hiding my problems, but I knew Mom would get involved faster than a race-car on a speedway. The last thing I needed were more bruises. I rubbed my bleeding cheek. The scratches felt rough and ragged, leaving my fingers covered in blood.

Mom went into a frenzy, practically throwing each drawer open as she searched for a first aid kit. No cigar. I sighed, trying my best not to wince as I adventured to our couch, flopped on it, turned the now repaired radio and tried to block out today's events. I listened to Al and Mom complain about the first aid kit crisis. To my baffled belligerence, Mustang didn't say a word, didn't even look at me. I supposed he didn't need to, Mom filled him in with her shrieks and worried-chatter.

"Mrs. Elric, your faucet is all fixed." The longest sentence I had ever heard him speak. He bowed, gave him a twenty, and continued searching. But Mustang stopped at our door, turning around, his black eyes compassionate and caring. "If you want, I can bring Edward down to the garden. I have a kit there."

"Oh, could you? Thank you so much, Mr. Mustang. You don't know how much better I feel." Her voice was so annoying.

He smiled at her and beckoned me to follow him. However nervous around this guy I felt, he had the medicine. God knows I needed it.

But we didn't go back to the shack. He led me past it to sophisticated-looking house a few miles off. I guessed it was where he lived. As we entered, I was surprised to see so many different assortments of flowers. Blues, yellows, reds, all different varieties. Then I realized Mustang wasn't just the maintenance man, but the gardener as well.

_That's why the apartment looks so good outside._ I had a sudden deep respect for the man.

He pointed to a couch in the far corner and ordered, "sit." Not asked, not suggested. Ordered. I scoffed at him, tossing my blonde braid over my shoulder and proceeded to fall back into it, when he stopped me again. Just like the radio incident. "I said _sit_." Well, fine. I sat. This guy was a pain in the ass.

Leaving me there, Mustang headed for the next room, and from where I was it looked like a bathroom. I was sure this guy had bathrooms everywhere.

While he searched, I collected my bearings. The townhouse was beautiful, windows outlined in silk drapes and many, many book cases. It felt homey and inviting; I almost fell asleep staring. I sat in the entry way, huge marble columns held the ceiling above me like two great Atlas'. It was impressive.

He came back with some gauze and string, which I guessed was to stick the wounds closed. I had hoped it wouldn't come to that. Mustang sat next to me, gently grabbing my chin and turning my face towards him. "Hmmm," he muttered, inspecting my bruised jaw and slashed temple. "You'll be fine." His reassurance didn't help any.

Slowly, he started patching me up, rubbing alcohol into my cuts as to make sure they didn't get infected. He worked silently and diligently; I didn't even talk to him. Secretly, this man gave me the creeps.

I tried starting a conversation. The silence was killing me slowly. "So, I hear you used to work for the military?" He shook his head and waved my question off.

"That was then." We said no more after that.

With my feeling slightly hurt, I moved my attention away from the pain in my head to my arm, the metal one, of course. Testing the joins, relief flooded me when I found nothing broken. Russell may have done more damage if he actually knew about my limbs. I felt a pang of curiosity in my stomach, turning to Mr. Mustang. "Hey. Have you ever worked with automail?" When he didn't respond, I assumed the answer was no.

"If you don't stop talking and moving, your cuts won't heal as fast." What a jerk.

He was obviously interested; I saw the way he looked at my arm the first day in Central. I obeyed him, trying not to watch as he knotted the thread holding my cut together. Mustang put some adhesive tape over them to keep the skin from moving around, finally retreating to the bathroom once more.

"H-Hey! What do I do now?" I yelled, but shouting just made my lip hurt more.

He turned around and glared. "Don't get up and lie on your stomach." Why?

Sighing, I obeyed his commands, flopping my useless automail arm over the side of the couch. He came back with a box of nuts, bolts, screws, and who knows what else? He grunted, dropping the heavy box way too close to my head. "I'm going to fix your arm. I can see the metal's dented and it hasn't had a tune up in a while." I pouted.

"But I have a mechanic back home, and she usually -" Too late. Mustang was diligent as well as stubborn.

"You need to take care of yourself better." I turned my head away, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Country boys need to learn about life in the city." Ha ha ha. I scoffed at that.

However, I did feel peaceful sitting here with him. The moon shone through the curtains, soaking us in a beautiful bath of dry light. From the combination of strobe lights and the soft sound of grinding medal, I soon felt very drowsy. One little nap wouldn't hurt, now would it? With memories of a life long ago, I felt into a light slumber, partly from the abuse Russell gave me, partly for the fact that Mr. Mustang's hands were gently massaging my shoulders, so I thought nothing of it and nodded off.

* * *

When I awoke I was back in my own bed, the sun glaring down from between the curtains, and a small note taped to the side of my desk. Picking it up, I recognized it as a very complex transmutation circle, something I wasn't used to seeing on my own. Under it, there was something written, but I had no problem making out the beautiful calligraphy.

_Edward,_

_You might find this useful next time._

_~ Roy Mustang_

_

* * *

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**A/N: **okay, let's take an "aww" break. One, two, three, AWWWWW! XD gimme reviews, you lazy readers. AND USEFUL ONES, TOO, PLEASE. Or else I won't update for a VERY LONG TIME. and sorry about my Ed-bashing. Russell was a lot more violent than either Cheng or Johnny.

**AND OI, I NEED A BETA READER, SO ANYONE WHO IS INTERESTED PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW !**


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